Breathe Me
by marylinn
Summary: After finally returning home, Darcy Mills finds herself tumbling into a love that is bound to fall apart at the seams. It's more complicated than she'd ever imagined—raw, realistic and messy. /2014 movie-realm


**WARNING**

_I'll be taking concepts of the ninja turtles and spinning them with a dark realism and emotional depository, exploring the havoc feral instincts, isolation from humanity, and a warrior's drive can cause to a mutant's psych. so get ready for drama people._

* * *

Darcy's feet froze as soon as she stepped over the threshold of a room she'd known all her life.

Somehow it looked different. The walls were still the same faded cream that seemed to soak up the dusky purples and blues of the bed's quilt and earthy accents. The posters and pictures were all the same—immortalizing her aesthetics in a timeline from finger paintings to photos to her first actually purchased piece of art. The same fairy lights were strung dim and ready by the rice paper lamp that swayed with the breath of late summer sighing through the house. It was all the same: a hodgepodge, patchwork tapestry of her life to date, somehow more intimate and authentic than the crisp, burnt sienna room in Idaho (and Michigan, Colorado, Texas and Kansas too). With all the many places she'd trailed along after her mother, Darcy realized this had always been her only constant.

Here was her home.

And that was the difference: this time it truly _was_.

Releasing a long quiet breath, Darcy leaned against the doorframe as she let the duffle bag fall off her slumped shoulder to the floor. This time there was no quiet ticking countdown cinching the tightness in her chest, this time there was no steeling her heart to let go before she even had, this time she could truly settle into rote and routine . . . this time this room was home.

For as long as she wanted.

Darcy was a planner—perhaps it was because so little in her life had been predictable that one foot always seemed to be two steps ahead—but she could see herself graduating from High School, going to college, falling in love and getting married to a man who would give her five children and a blue house with a picket fence. As soon as she crossed the threshold of the apartment she'd been born in, Darcy knew she wouldn't be leaving again anytime soon and her entire body relaxed with a visceral sigh of relief.

Her father's heavy footstep clomping up the stairs snapped her head back in the game from where it had been blissfully sidelined by the sheer bliss of permanence. (Well, as much permanence as a nearly seventeen-year-old girl could really have.)

With a glance over her shoulder, she tugged the bag across the floor and sat heavily on the bed.

Her father wrestled her two ungainly suitcases into the room with awkward and blundering aplomb and Darcy's lips fought with a smile. She knew where she got her grace from, or more appropriately, her lack thereof.

Her dad straightened, his face red and sweaty, as he rubbed his palms uncomfortably on his thighs. "So . . . uh," he began eloquently. And then thought better of it and pushed one of the suitcases unnecessarily further into the room.

Darcy's smile broke through with affection, "Thanks, Dad," she chuckled. "I hope I don't cramp your style or anything by being here," she offered after a moment of silence.

"What style," he snorted, his lips twisting up wryly as he reached up and scratched the back of his neck. "It's great having you home, kid. And I'm hoping you stay a good long while."

Darcy bounced on the bed and nodded with a grin. She knew he liked having her around and honestly Darcy liked having him around too. He didn't hover or encroach or demand she be sucked into his drama (like someone she knew). Darcy had gotten her easygoing independence from her father after all.

His hazel eyes darted around the room, and then he smacked his lips. "Well, I'll let you . . ." he waved a flustered hand.

"'Kay."

Clearing his throat, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned abruptly, nearly tripping on a suitcase before fleeing for the door. "Just call if you need anything," he looked over his shoulder, meeting her eyes with an earnestness that belied the flippant words.

Darcy nodded reassuringly, answering his silent questions with a smile. Only a quarter of a conversation with her dad was verbal—and with a final glance, he turned and crossed the hall and shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Darcy standing alone in her room.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she spun around on her heel . . . and painfully banged smack dab into her heavy suitcase. She yelped and clapped a hand over her knee, hopping around a few times while her eyes squeezed shut in pain. She limped on over to her bed with a pathetic whimper and threw herself back spread eagle with a heavy sigh.

Her gaze lazily drifted over to the clock on her side dresser, noticing the time to be only five o'clock in the afternoon and she smiled at the thought of taking a quick walk around the block to stretch her legs.

"Dad!" She called as she pulled on her white sneakers, opening the door to her room and moving toward the front of her father's small apartment. "I'm going on a quick walk around the block—I'll be back in a bit!"

"'You got your cellphone?"

She answered yes and hopped outside, breathing in the heavy scent of city before letting it out with a content sigh.

* * *

Her shoes slapped against the pavement, the sound resonating off the fading structures that surrounded her. The sun was setting on the horizon and began to hide behind the buildings, causing her to quicken her step so she wouldn't get caught in the dark. Darcy could feel the cool wind zipping up around her shorts and nip at her naked knees and thighs, causing chills to run up her spine.

Turning the corner, she paused when she caught sight of a few men loitering on a stoop with beer bottles dangling loosely from their fingers and cigarettes hanging from their lips. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. Darcy scooted into the inside of the sidewalk so she could to give them room, walking quickly and looking past them to the corner.

"Hey, there sexy," one called as she passed, and she knew he had to be talking to her since no one else was around. She glanced up automatically. Two of them had moved to their feet and the other two were starting to get up. The closest, a heavyset man in his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt that was open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. He took half a step toward her.

Darcy kept her mouth shut—quickly looking away and walking faster toward the corner. She could hear them laughing from behind her.

"Hey, don't be like that!" One of them called after her again, but she kept my head down and rounded the corner with a sigh of relief. She could still hear them chortling from behind.

Darcy found herself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several somber-colored warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. She had wandered far past the part of New York that she had intended to see.

It was getting darker—the clouds finally returning, piling up on the western horizon and creating an early sunset. The eastern sky was still clear, but graying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. She'd forgotten her jacket at the apartment, and a sudden shiver made Darcy cross her arms tightly across her chest. Only a single van passed, and then the road was empty.

The sky suddenly darkened further and as she looked over her shoulder to glare at the offending cloud, Darcy realized with a shock that two men were walking quietly twenty feet behind.

They were from the same group she'd passed at the stoop, though neither was the large one who'd spoken to her. She turned her head forward at once, quickening her pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made her shiver again.

Darcy listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet when compared to the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier, and it didn't sound like they were speeding up, or getting any closer.

_Breathe,_ she had to remind herself. _You don't know if they're following you or not._

She continued to walk as quickly as she could without actually running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a few yards away from her now. Darcy could hear them, staying as far back as they'd been before.

She reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a blind drive to the back of another building. She was half-turned in anxiety—dashing across the narrow drive, back to the sidewalk. The street ended at the next corner, where there was a stop sign. Darcy concentrated on the faint footsteps from behind, deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back though, and she knew they could outrun her in any case.

The footfalls were definitely farther back and Darcy risked a quick glance over her shoulder, noticing they were maybe forty-feet back now and she sighed with relief.

But they were both _staring_ at her.

It seemed to take forever for her to get to the corner. She kept her pace steady, the men behind her falling ever so slightly farther behind with every step. Maybe they realized they had scared her and were sorry_,_ she thought to herself.

She saw two cars going north pass the intersection she was heading for and she exhaled happily. There would be more people around once she got off this deserted street. Darcy skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And then abruptly stopped.

The street was lined on both sides by blank, door-less, windowless buildings. She could see in the distance (two intersections down) streetlamps, cars, and more pedestrians, but they were all too far away. Because lounging against the western building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as she froze dead on the sidewalk. Darcy realized then that she wasn't being followed.

She was being herded.

She paused for only a second, but it felt like forever. Slowly, she turned and darted to the other side of the road. She had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted attempt, the footsteps behind her growing louder now.

"There you are, baby!" The booming voice of the stocky man shattering the intense silence and making Darcy jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like he was looking past her.

"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind, making her jump again as she tried to hurry down the street. "We just took a little detour!"

Her steps had to slow now. She was closing the distance between herself and the lounging pair too quickly. Darcy had a good loud scream, and she sucked in air, preparing to use it, but her throat was so dry she wasn't sure how much volume she could manage.

The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as she warily came to a stop, and walked slowly into the street.

"Stay away from me," she warned in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and fearless. But she was right about the dry throat—no volume.

"Don't be like that, sugar," he called, the raucous laughter started again behind her.

And then, she was grabbed.

Darcy let out a shrill shriek that struck through the night air horrifically before a hand wrap itself around her mouth. She found herself being dragged into a grimy alleyway and hysteria clawed its way up her chest, tears falling down her cheeks and sobs causing her to shake as she struggled in their strong grip. She could hear their filthy leers.

"Keep her mouth covered, man. She's a screamer," one laughed and Darcy frantically kicked her legs when they reached for the button of her shorts, yanking on her t-shirt. Her throat was growing raw from her desperate screams that couldn't make it past her lips and her heart felt like it was moments away from shattering through her ribs. She just wanted to go _home._

Suddenly the world was spinning, all the air in her lungs evaporating as she was thrown to the ground. She felt one of the men climb on top of her, stilling her wiggling body with his own as he sat on her waist. She tried to push his arms away when he reached for the front of her shirt but her face was immediately socked in response. Her ears rang at the furious punch and her entire body trembled.

"Sorry if I'm a little rough," He chuckled, his voice low in her ear and his revolting breath sticky against her neck, making her whimper as she wiggled beneath him trying to get free of his grip. It was no use, he had her down and she wasn't going to be able to break free. Darcy felt her body slack at the sudden realization that there was nothing she could do to get away from him.

She sobbed as he removed her shorts, her heart was beating so quickly now that she could hear the blood pounding in her ears urging her to get away, to fight, to do anything to stop him—but her body wouldn't listen.

She was helpless.

_Whoosh!_

Darcy's wide eyes remained locked on the brick wall beside her when the weight on her hips was removed, tears dripping into her hair and cheeks as she listened to the sound of curses and grunts of pain—bones breaking, flesh bruising, feet shifting and then . . .

Silence.

Shakily, Darcy sat up and picked up her shorts, sliding them back on before setting her hand on the brick wall beside her, using it as a crutch to help her to her feet. She wiped away the tears that continued the drip down her cheeks, her bottom lip trembling as she realized what had almost happened.

Darcy whirled around to her savior, only to see him hiding in the shadows surrounded by the unconscious bodies of the men who almost ruined her.

"Hello?" she called, taking a hesitant step forward.

When she was met with silence, she cleared her throat, trying again.

"Hello?" Her voice was duskier now—the pastel tones of womanhood, and it slammed Leo hard like a sucker punch. She noticed his shadowed form at the corner of the alley and he watched her chest hiccup with a gasp apprehension.

"I-I, I just wanted . . ." Relief and its corresponding shock had evaporated from Darcy's anxiety now. She took a single shaking step toward the hulking man who hadn't moved a muscle. But each stride oddly felt like trying to do so under water, or like she was fighting an incendiary backdraft.

She stopped.

She really couldn't do anything—her feet simply grew roots in the ground. That stranger's body slowly straightened, inch by inch, muscles and sinew twitching with tension like a bungee cord pulled far too tight. Those massive shoulders pulled back and Darcy's swallow made a strange squeaking sound in her throat. Holy cow he wasn't just big, he was huge like some kind of Goliath. At her respectable five-foot-three and a half she noticed that if he straightened all the way to his full height, she'd barely come up to the middle of his bicep.

Darcy tipped her head back, all the way back—trying to catch a better look at his shadowed face and form. Her lips parted . . . and finally she forced words out in nothing but a gossamer breath: "Thank you."

Tearing his eyes from the pebbles of her toenails he'd been memorizing—she'd painted them pink like little candy chicklets—his gaze dragged up slender shins, cataloging every little scar and shadow. He could easily read the roadmap of her skin, his mind neurotically classifying each blemish with a memory.

Leonardo continued his visual survey, slipping up long creamy thighs and tracing the hem of her shorts before hugging the feminine swell of her hips. A two centimeter swath of her stomach taunted him, but as trumped by the need to traverse over her narrow waist and ripe breasts. They were more than enough to fill his palm.

Leo's nails popped into the heel of his hand, burning, distracting.

The blue baby doll tee shirt was scooped low enough to show delicate collarbones and her breath—rapid and light—nestled in the hollow of her throat like a frightened animal. His gaze snapped up to her mouth where its echo quivered on her lips.

Darcy felt his gaze rake up her body, viscerally shucking off her clothes like a tight glove and raising chill bumps over her skin like a sudden racing summer shower. It was no more than a second, but somehow time stopped as she watched, fascinated and horrified as his attention unfurled over her like a firm and covetous caress.

The dainty teardrop over her lip pulled Leo's gaze up to her nose where he could count the faint freckles like stardust. Even the sun couldn't resist kissing that skin—smooth peaches and cream with soft blushing cheekbones, a shading fringe of lash fluttering like a whisper.

He took a single step forward . . . and the air between them was rent in half by their synchronous gasp.

Those eyes were like sea, a bright and brilliant blue. Leo could curl up and fall asleep in those eyes and never dream another nightmare again. While he watched, her pupils yawned, stretching open and inviting him to drown in the clear, redemptive midnight of her soul. Oh, he'd do so happily.

Closer, if he could just crawl into that darkness, press himself deep and long into that forgiving warmth . . .

"Oh, my God . . ."

Leo blinked.

And blinked again.

He was looming over Darcy, mere inches away: shoulders squared, heart thumping . . . exposed. And she . . .

She was shrinking away in disbelief and fright, trembling—her cloudy-blue eyes round as saucers.

_Afraid._

"W-What are you?"

Nostrils flaring, he took a step back. His gaze had yet to break free from bewitching steel trap of her pupils, though her lashes were blinking like hummingbird's wings.

And then, he was gone.

* * *

_**R&R**_

_**/this story is also posted on another teenage mutant ninja turtles archive/**_


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